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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23714773">Solid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/suffocatinglypositive/pseuds/suffocatinglypositive'>suffocatinglypositive</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown &amp; King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Beetlejuice is Jewish, Coping Mechanisms, Denial of Feelings, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, I’m really doing my best here guys, Like a LOT of denial, Multi, Please be kind I haven’t written a fic in a hot minute, Quarantine has broken me, Slow Burn, The Maitlands must be protected at all costs, There’s a Queer Crew™️, Trans Male Character, loss of a parent, lydia deetz is a spooky lil lesbian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:33:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,018</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23714773</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/suffocatinglypositive/pseuds/suffocatinglypositive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of her father, the eternally optimistic Elizabeth Marbel uproots her life to look after her brother. Cal seems to be coping fine, though. Could it have something to do with the fact that three out of his four best friends are dead? And one of them is a strangely attractive demon?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Original Character(s), Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Original Female Character(s), Wednesday Addams/Lydia Deetz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Father’s Funeral</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>unbeta’d.</p><p>We die like men.</p><p>(Also I don’t have a beta reader.)</p><p>We die like poor, lonely men.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“My father was a great man,” Elizabeth said to the gathered crowd. “I know that everyone says that about the recently deceased, but — for once — I’m not exaggerating. He dedicated his life to helping other people, from his EMT work to the way he raised me and my brother. Every single ounce of his time and energy went into other people, and he was loved dearly for that. I’m sure that’s why a lot of you are here today...” She continued on for a few more minutes, managing to hold it together until the end of the eulogy. It was an odd feeling, speaking semi-objectively about someone who had impacted her life so much. Eliza wasn’t saying anything new. Everyone in attendance already knew what kind of person her father was. It was simply a formality. A nice way of getting everyone on the same page before they all went home and grieved separately.</p><p>At the end of the ceremony, Eliza accepted all of the kind words and cautious handshakes graciously. She didn’t want to be here. Granted, no one wanted to be here, but it was a social requirement to show up to a funeral. Especially if you were the child of the deceased. As a child of the deceased, everyone wanted to talk to you, for better or for worse. While she didn’t normally mind attention, Eliza could feel the stares of some of the more judgmental attendees. She had tried to tone it down out of respect for the dead — she really had. She had even worn a black dress without any patterns on it. True, her black tights were sparkly, and her hair was bright green, but she had been focusing more on staying together mentally than re-dying her hair back to its natural brown hue.</p><p>She had forced herself not to cry in front of everyone, although the fuzziness brought on by the pure exhaustion of the past week probably helped dull her emotions. Losing her father was one battle, but having to plan the funeral was a completely different challenge. Who knew so many people cared about what Dad’s casket looked like? He had mentioned while he was alive that he honestly wouldn’t have cared if they threw his naked corpse into a landfill.</p><p>The funeral director did not find that joke nearly as entertaining as Eliza and her dad had.</p><p>What Eliza really wanted to do now was turn off her feelings. She didn’t want to sit with these emotions any longer than she needed to. The funeral planning was almost a blessing in disguise; it allowed her to look at her father’s death with a clinical edge. Instead of worrying over the fact that he might’ve been scared before he died, she could busy herself with choosing wraps over finger sandwiches. Instead of thinking about the fact that she’d never see his big smile again, she could focus on red tie versus blue tie (not that it really mattered; it was a closed casket). Distraction was the key, she found, to sanity. Whether it was the good kind (knitting, learning another language, helping a neighbor with yard work) or the not-so-good kind (hooking up with an ex, impulse buying, three too many glasses of scotch at night), it helped with the grief. Eliza was guilty of all of these. It probably wasn’t the most healthy coping mechanism, but hiding her sadness felt better than dealing with it.</p><p>So she honestly didn’t understand how Cal could just sit there, quietly studying the casket, and not lose his mind. The black-clad funeral-goers had mostly cleared out, and Eliza had managed to break away from a group of tearful older women. She sat down next to her brother in the first pew of the Anglican church Eliza had decided to use. “Hey,” she said quietly, studying him.</p><p>He’d changed a lot since her last visit, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of time or grief. She decided on both. His dark brown hair was a little longer than the buzz he’d previously sported. He had obviously tried to comb it for the formal occasion, but it wasn’t long enough to actually do anything with. Cal still had all of his piercings in, despite their dad’s playful predictions that he’d get tired of them and just end up with ears that looked like Swiss cheese. And he looked... older. He’d always been mature for his age, and a lot of people assumed he was already in university, despite his height. But something had shifted in him, and an undefinable flicker in his black eyes was different. He looked tired, but to Eliza’s surprise, he didn’t look defeated. Eliza hoped she exuded the same kind of confidence he did, but she wasn’t stupid enough to think that that was the case.</p><p>“Hey, yourself,” he responded, glancing at her with a sad smile.</p><p>She took his hand, gently running her thumb along his knuckles. It was a good feeling, a comforting feeling, for both of them. Solid. Tangible. A physical way to show that they were there for each other. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and one trickled down her cheek before she could stop it. She took a shaky breath and let out a wheezy, heartbreaking laugh before swiping the tear away. “I’m kicking myself for not wearing polka dots. I feel like I’m in someone else’s skin.”</p><p>“I noticed you were a lot more muted,” he responded, leaning his head against her shoulder. Normally, she would’ve teased him about how all of his ear piercings were going to draw blood, but for once in her life, she didn’t feel like joking all that much.</p><p>“Felt like it was appropriate.”</p><p>“Dad wouldn’t’ve cared.”</p><p>She smiled sadly, squeezing his hand and forcing a playful lilt to her voice. “Maybe I just wanted to match you, Poe.”</p><p>He didn’t respond; he just intertwined their fingers. Eliza closed her eyes and leaned her head against his. This wasn’t fair to him. Cal needed someone. She had entered university six years ago, leaving her brother with their father. Sure, they saw each other during the holidays, but that wasn’t the same as experiencing life with him. Now, they were reunited under the worst possible circumstances. It wasn’t good that he was alone. Sure, he had told her about his friends who had been helping him. A girl named Lydia had lost her mom a few years ago, and it comforted Eliza to know that Cal had friends who understood him and would talk with him. But he needed <em>family</em>.</p><p>She felt so stupid for not noticing earlier. For not being there. Their dad had been dead for a week, and all she had done was plan the funeral and sleep with her ex and down too many bottles of wine. The woman took another shaky breath. She needed family, too. Eliza kissed the freckle above Callum’s left eyebrow and squeezed his hand again.</p><p>
  <em>They needed each other.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you like this short little introduction! I absolutely love these characters, and I hope you guys do too. I figured it’d make more sense to introduce them before the great wheels of plot start spinning. This musical is literally a work of art, and I’m so excited to write about it. Fanfics aren’t something that I write a lot, but I think they’re so much fun. I’m always up for constructive criticism or words of encouragement! Kudos are nice, too. ^-^ Thanks so much for reading!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Swedish, Photos, and Phone Calls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cal visits friends and Swedish is confusing</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Special thanks to vive_la_revolution for beta reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“So!” Eliza said, placing her hands on her hips and surveying the deep blue, half-built IKEA table in the middle of the apartment, “I guess learning Swedish is on my to-do list, now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her brother snorted and kneeled down to try and figure out the instructions. Leave it to Cal to figure out an unfigurable problem; Eliza smiled a little, watching him. “Why do we need another table, again?” He looked up at her with an eyebrow raised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>tsked </span>
  </em>
  <span>and kneeled down beside him. She threw her pastel purple hair into a messy bun, then she took the instructions from him, as if she’d magically learn Swedish the harder she stared at them. “The table was,  like,  Auntie Laura’s one request after Dad died. Apparently it’s an heirloom or something?” She shrugged. “I don’t know why it took her months to get it if it was so important, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>know that we’re not eating on the couch, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> table is blue!” She flashed her little brother a broad grin, eyebrows raised in excitement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callum laughed a little. “Of course it is. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>bought it, and I distinctly remember the ‘No black in the kitchen’ rule.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s not my fault you hoarded all the dark tones for your room. If I added black anywhere else, it would throw off the—” she wiggled her fingers a bit as her mind raced for the word “—feng shui of the house.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you even know what feng shui is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eliza shoved him playfully. “Of course I do, little brother. I’m a learned college grad. Like I always say: feng shui is the feng </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, Lin Manuel-Miranda.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. “Besides, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span>, personally, don’t want to live in a black pit of darkness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” She smirked, then fell from her haunches to her butt. Cal followed suit after a moment. They both stared at the table in defeat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you learned Swedish yet?” Cal asked, glancing at his sister.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head, her ever-present grin widening. “Take-out?” she offered, not sounding the least bit defeated. Eliza wouldn’t allow little problems like blue, Swedish tables to slow her down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her brother grinned. “Hell yeah. Take-out’s the sh—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shiz,” he finished, smiling sheepishly. “That’s definitely what I was going to say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eliza rolled her eyes, grinning. “Of course it was.” She pulled out her phone. Its sparkly, checkered case shimmered under the cheap lights of their dad’s old apartment. “I’ll order. What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bleach.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gave a short bark of laughter and rolled her eyes again. “Calm down, edgelord. But seriously. Any requests?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cal stood up, then offered a hand to his sister. She took it and stood next to him. “Just lo mein. Oh! And chicken dumplings.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eliza threw him finger guns and a wink. “I gotchu, Poe.” She pulled up the number to place the order, and Callum walked back to his room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His gaze lingered on his sister’s room across the hall. His sister noticed and smiled gently at him, phone to her ear. It was still strange to have Liza in their dad’s old room, but they were getting used to it. It had been over three months since the funeral, and so much had happened. She had become his legal guardian, and Cal had started his senior year of high school at Winter River. At first, it took some time to get adjusted. Eliza had been an independent adult for over half a decade, so living with and caring for her grungy younger brother was something she viewed as a strange new adventure. While Eliza was worried that he might pull away and give in to unhealthy coping mechanisms (much like she did for a while), he actually seemed to be fine. Well, as fine as he could be, considering the circumstances. She had brought his mental health up in a few conversations, just to make sure that she was doing everything she could to help him. Cal had just smiled the slightest bit and mentioned that Lydia, Adam, Barbara, and Beej understood what he was going through, and that’s all that he needed. She had raised an eyebrow at the name “Beej”, but Cal had shrugged it away. “Just a nickname,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eliza thanked the powers-that-be for her brother’s friends, while also suppressing a pang of jealousy that he had anyone to talk to at all. She had cursed her immaturity, then she had played a podcast in a desperate attempt to distract herself. If she could fill her mind with anything but her own thoughts, she would be alright.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After placing the order, the woman lay on the couch and stared at the ceiling. She was listening to the kind of podcast that talked about absolutely everything and anything. This week, they were discussing bidets. Bidets sounded interesting, and she liked a clean ass as much as anyone. Eliza made a mental note to check one out after she learned Swedish. That’d be a novel project, a nice new diversion. She sat up as she heard the door open over the sound of voices. “Hey,” she smiled, “Where are you going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cal glanced back, halfway out the door. “Just got a text from Lyds.” He held up his phone, as if to show her the conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, Lyds. The friend who had been so kind to a struggling Callum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our photos developed, and she wants me to come down and look at them. I’m just gonna shoot over to her house until the food’s ready.” He paused awkwardly. “Is that alright?” It was strange for Eliza, being both his sister and his parental figure. That was still something they were working out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” his sister said, “go ahead. I’ll call you when I go to pick the food up.” The perks of living in a quiet town, Eliza mused. Cal had his license and a beat up Honda Civic, so he could drive down to see his friend on a whim with minimal parental panic. “Love you..!” she called as Callum closed the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And with that, Eliza was alone with her thoughts. She took a deep breath and pressed play and forced herself to seriously consider getting a bidet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>&lt;&gt;</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lydia gave Cal a small smile when she opened the door. “Hey,” she said, “thanks for coming so soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled back and stepped inside. “Of course. I’m really excited to see what you’ve done, Lyds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His friend’s smile widened a little. They had been working together on this project for a while, and Lydia’s job as photographer helped them grow closer than they were already. If they had never worked together, they probably never would have talked. Cal wouldn’t have had someone to help him through his father’s death, and Lydia probably wouldn’t have found someone as strange and unusual as her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their sophomore year, they had shared quite a few classes, but they very rarely spoke. Like with most kids in a smaller high school, they knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>of </span>
  </em>
  <span> each other but never quite got around to talking. There was just never a good reason to say hi. They each had their own friends (living and — in Lydia’s case — dead), and they were both happy in their separate, respective lives. But when Callum began working on his music album in earnest, he had reached out to see if anyone was willing to work with him. To his surprise, Lydia Deetz responded. She didn’t have a passion for music like he did, but she did enjoy photography. She offered to shoot photos for his album cover, and Cal readily accepted. That weekend, he had showed up to her house, ready to take some edgy rock photos. But he’d frozen in the doorway, mouth agape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> is that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he had pointed directly at Beetlejuice, who had been hovering over Lydia’s shoulder and passionately arguing a point about Adam’s ass. Beetlejuice was ecstatic that another breather could see him, and Lydia was equally as happy that another breather like her existed. After some explanation and introduction (the Maitlands approved of Cal, although Barbara was unapologetically worried about the condition of his ears, what with all the piercings), Callum fell into an easy rhythm with both the ghosts and Lydia. Charles and Delia both approved of the fact that Lydia now had a living friend that the entire household could interact with without having to summon Beetlejuice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Needless to say, they all got along pretty well after that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are your parents?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Date night,” Lydia shrugged, “Delia’s all about them, currently. Her </span>
  <em>
    <span>crystals</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell her that she and Dad need to get filet mignon. Everyone else is in the attic. You can go upstairs and see Adam and Barbara. They’ve been waiting all weekend for you to come and visit, and if I have to listen to Beej imitate an electric guitar whenever someone mentions you </span>
  <em>
    <span>one more time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I might have to chop off my ears.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cal snorted. “Is it at least a good imitation?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not remotely.” Lydia gave him a small grin. “I’ll grab the photos.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and made his way up to the attic. He knocked on the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is it?” Adam called, as if he couldn’t just stick his head through the door and find out. Callum genuinely didn’t understand why the Maitlands didn’t always use their ghost perks, but he guessed it was therapeutic for them to pretend to still be alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s me. Cal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door flew open. “Cal!” Barbara exclaimed as he walked into the room. “We’ve missed you!” She walked over and gave him a tight hug. He could feel the iciness of her skin though his jacket. By this point, he’d gotten used to the chill of the ghosts. It was actually kind of comforting in a strange, macabre way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hugged her back, arms wrapping around her waist. “I missed you, too,” he smiled into her shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leaned back, loosening her grip but not letting him go completely. “How are you? How’s your sister? How’s school?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Adam spoke up, standing next to his wife: “How’s the music? Have you seen the photos? Any gigs yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cal had used the word “gigs” offhandedly about a year ago, and they’d referred to any performance since then as a “gig”. The school talent show? A gig. Practicing a song in front of them? A gig. They’d even gone as far as to apply the term “gig” to any sort of display of absolutely anything. Delia’s art shows became “gigs”. He suspected by now that they did it on purpose, just to get a reaction out of him and Lydia. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy flashed them a small grin. He didn’t consider himself a smiley person. Truly, that was his sister’s role. But something about the pure love and wholesomeness that the Maitlands exhibited forced him to smile. “Everything’s good, guys. No gigs yet, but I might be playing with a band on Halloween night. Depends what they think of my tape.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, exciting!” Barbara cheered, pulling him in for another hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s exciting? Are you guys </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> celebrating something without me?” Before anyone could process what was happening, Beetlejuice appeared and yanked Cal out of Barbara’s arms. “Come on, babes! Sure, Adam’s hot, but I’m the whole package. You’re really gonna party with these losers instead of me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callum rolled his eyes and wriggled out of the demon’s grasp. He stared at him with an eyebrow raised. “Definitely. We do it all the time, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beej frowned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do we do all the time?” Lydia had entered the room, flicking through the small stack of pictures in her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have parties when Beej isn’t around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” She pursed her lips for a moment, making a show of thinking her nonexistent social calendar through. “Yeah. All the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, scowling. “You know what? It’s fine. In fact,” he continued, his tone changing into something less hurt and more raunchy, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Adam</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I have parties together when </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one </span>
  </em>
  <span>is around, if you know what I mean.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Adam, a predatory grin spreading across his face. Barbara stepped between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“N-No! No we do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Adam protested from behind his wife.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two teenagers smirked at each other, having given up on the idea that Beetlejuice could act civilly long ago. Lydia held up the photos for Cal to have a look through, every once in a while pointing out certain aspects that she liked. When they reached the bottom of the stack, Cal gasped quietly. “Holy shit, Lyds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like that one?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell yeah. Liza will love it, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barbara spoke up, having successfully kept BJ from her husband yet again. “How </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> things with Liza?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cal shrugged a little, looking down to pick at his black nail polish. “Good. Fine. She’s trying. It’s... weird. But nice. Lydia’s met her, and they get along.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lyds shrugged as well. “A little loud for my taste. Very... friendly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to meet her,” Adam suggested, “just to know who you’re living with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy laughed awkwardly, raising his head and tugging at his ear and looking anywhere but the Maitland’s eyes. “That’s, ah, that’s the thing.” He paused, thinking of the right way to phrase the next thought. “She, um. She kinda thinks that you guys are all teenagers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed again. “She thinks you guys go to my school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beej snorted, floating above him. “How the fuck does she think that? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re dead.” He tugged at Lydia’s hair, and she swatted him away. “Most of us, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No shit, Sherlock.” Cal glared up at him. “I told her about Lydia, and then I told her about you guys, and I guess she just—” he interlaced his fingers, as if to symbolize a combination of sorts “—conglomerated the two. She thinks that Adam and Barbara are high school sweethearts and Beej—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me guess! Let me guess! Uhm. Sexiest man alive?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cal scowled, silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. Fuckboy with a secret heart of gold?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, ooh! Do I ride a motorcycle into school every morning, and I have a custom-made leather jacket, and everyone stares at me because I’m fucking gorgeous but no one says anything because they’re all too scared of my raw sexual prowess and god-like phys—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She thinks you’re a fucking delinquent, BJ.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He visibly deflated. “...A hot delinquent?” he offered, grasping at straws to save his fragile ego.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A loser delinquent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beej sighed, floating down beside Lydia. She awkwardly patted his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it’s any comfort, though,” Cal said, “she thinks all the stupid shit you do is funny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon beamed. “Fuck yeah,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we’ve gotten a little off track here,” Barbara cut in. “Eliza thinks we’re teenagers, and we need to fix that. Because at some point, our paths are going to cross, and I’d rather have it be in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span> way over dinner than in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>not-so-nice</span>
  </em>
  <span> way that will probably consist of a mental breakdown for the poor girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cal sighed quietly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s fair. So..?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Invite her to dinner,” Lydia offered. “She’s met me. Tell her my parents want to meet her.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>He nodded and pulled out his phone to text Eliza, jumping a little as it buzzed. The name </span><b>Smelly Sister</b> <span>flashed across his screen. “Speak of the devil...” he murmured and then pressed the button to answer. “Hey, Liza. Before you say anything embarrassing, I’m on speakerphone with Lydia in the room.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Lydia!” Eliza’s cheerful voice crackled through the phone. “You wanna hear some embarrassing things about Cal?” Her brother could practically hear the shit-eating grin on her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lydia gave a mischievous laugh. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Once, on a dare, he ran through our neighbors’ sprinklers naked. A cop saw him and my dad had to bail him out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cal’s face turned bright red, desperately trying to ignore the snickers coming from his friends. Mainly BJ, if he was being honest. “I was twelve years old, Eliza!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were thirteen, Poe! Hence the bailing.” she giggled. “But I was just calling to let you know that I picked up the food and I’m on my way home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweet,” Cal said as he made eye contact with the Maitlands. Barbara made exaggerated eating motions, and Adam pretended to be introducing himself to someone. Beetlejuice had floated behind them and was miming giving someone head; Cal rolled his eyes at him. “Um, before you go, while I’m still here, Lydia’s... parents have something they’d like to ask you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lydia snorted at the loose term of the word “parents”.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was silence on Eliza’s end for a moment, broken only by the clicking of her blinker for a few seconds. Then she said, “Alright.” Cal frowned a little. He knew that tone; that was the tone she used when she wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>vibing</span>
  </em>
  <span> correctly with something. Her words, not his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy held the phone up to Adam’s face. “Uh, hi, Eliza.” The awkwardness in the air was palpable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, there!” She let a little bit of her customer service voice sneak into the conversation, determined to be unbothered by the discomfort. “Cal told me you wanted to speak to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, yes. We were, ah, wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner... this weekend?” he glanced at Lydia, who nodded and gave him a thumbs up. “Yes,” the ghost repeated, nodding once and sounding much more confident with the decision. “Yes, this weekend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” Eliza grinned, sounding much less nervous. Honestly, she had been expecting to be shamed for poor parenting practices. “Yeah, of course! That sounds great, Mr. Deetz. What time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fi—“ Lydia shook her head. “Six,” Adam amended, looking a little guilty at the name “Mr. Deetz”.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Six it is!” Eliza’s excited voice echoed through the room, and Cal smiled down at his phone a little. “See you then, Mr. Deetz. Thanks so much for looking after Cal. Head on home soon, Poe. Love you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you, too,” he mumbled, ignoring Beej’s disembodied head quietly mocking Eliza into his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye, Lydia! You know you’re welcome over any time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lydia gave a tiny smile and wave Eliza couldn’t see. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cal clicked “End Call”, and Beetlejuice waited approximately half a second before stating: “She sounds hot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy hit his arm, which fell off. Cal rolled his eyes at the parlor trick. “Beej,” he sighed, “she’s my sister.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> new fantasy,” the demon replied in the same nonchalant way someone might talk about a book they were reading. He picked up his arm and reattached it with a wet, suctioning noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Callum shuddered, both at the sound and the words. “If you could never say anything like that again, I would be eternally grateful.” He put Lydia’s pictures in his pocket and gave a small smile to all of them. He walked over to the attic door and opened it. “Thanks for the photos, Lyds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gave him a lazy salute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to go. I’ll see you guys soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell your sister I like her ass!” BJ called over the goodbyes from the Maitlands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cal paused, genuinely suspicious. He narrowed his eyes. “You... haven’t seen her ass, have you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon grinned a little too widely. “Not yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cal flipped him off and closed the door. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, thank you for reading!! Things will actually begin to pick up next chapter, so yay! Words of affirmation are my love language, so comments and suggestions are always appreciated. Thanks so much, and I’ll see you next chapter! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Walls Swear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dinner with ghosts, humans, and... maybe a demon?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I swear to God, BJ,” Lydia growled as she pinned her hair back, “If you so much as cause an unnatural breeze, I will shave your head and burn your suit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, baaabesss,” the demon whined, floating above her head, “We don’t even know if she can see me. And if she can, don’t you want me to make a new friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lyds rolled her eyes at him. “First of all, if she could talk to Adam over the phone, and if Cal could see you the first time he came over, I’m sure there’s a pretty high chance that she’ll be able to see you, too. Second of all, if Eliza doesn’t approve of you, she probably won’t want Cal coming over anymore. And that would suck for everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beej frowned, then mumbled, “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the girl continued, smoothing her dress in the mirror, “She still needs to actually meet my parents. We still need to explain that Adam and Barbara aren’t teenagers. And we need to explain </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She sighed a little and walked toward her bedroom door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes, floating alongside her. “It’s pretty straightforward, Lyds. Babs and Adam: two of the sexiest ghosts dead. Chuck: stern but loving father. Delia: eccentric wine aunt who also happens to be your stepmom.” He paused, brow furrowing. “That sounds weird, but you know what I mean! You: you’re a spooky little lesbian! And me?” He ran a hand through his hair and flashed a toothy grin. “I’m the ghost with the most, the—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cut him off and tried to wave him away as they reached the top of the stairs. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard the whole spiel before, Beej. Look,” she huffed and turned to him, massaging her temples, “I know that you want to meet her. I get it. But just... just wait, okay? Once she’s comfortable with the Maitlands, then we’ll see if she wants to meet you, alright? There’s just…” She took another deep breath. “There’s a big difference between a few friendly ghosts and a literal demon. Cal is really worried that she won’t like you, and that could affect whether or not he can still come over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned. “What’s not to like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl raised an eyebrow. “Well besides the fact that you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>from hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and openly perv on her in front of Cal -- which already pisses </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> off -- the fact that you tried to kill everyone and marry me would probably do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was three years ago! And you forgave--!” Beetlejuice growled a little and crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>do my best</span>
  </em>
  <span> to behave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia gave him a small smile. “Thanks, BJ.” She walked down the stairs and began to help Delia set the table, praying that the demon would keep his word and actually stay out of trouble for the evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But knowing Beetlejuice, neither of those things would happen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&lt;&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do I look alright?” Eliza asked for the eighth time that evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal glanced at her. “You look fine. I really wouldn’t stress, Liza. Lydia’s family is really chill. They’re not gonna judge you on what you’re wearing.” He gestured to his hoodie and tattered jeans, as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>look at me and honestly tell me I look nice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded a little to herself, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel before reaching over to turn up the music. Her brother studied her, frowning a little. He didn’t understand why she was so nervous. The Deetzes were some of the most relaxed people he’d ever met. When he’d introduced himself, they hadn’t looked aghast at the fact that his clothes looked like he collected them from a dumpster. And when he had playfully told Beej to “fuck off” while he was reading, Charles had simply looked up from the opposite end of the room and gently requested that Cal watch his language. He supposed that they had Lydia for a daughter. And although she was definitely the more polished of the two, the Deetzes were already accustomed to her particular brand of weirdness; they probably were already primed to roll with whatever life threw at them. He was interested to see how they’d react to Eliza.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delia will like you,” he offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled tightly and clicked her blinker. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Yeah. She’ll probably tell you all about how positivity changed her life and gave her a man and yada, yada, yada. And then she’ll want to send you home with a million and one crystals for everything from wealth to a fulfilled sex life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eliza laughed, and Callum smiled a little bit. Even if the entire dinner was a flop and they ended up hating her, at least Liza had her brother. “Who says I don’t need either of those?” she grinned, keeping her eyes on the road.  “And you say ‘positivity’ like it’s a bad thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “Not bad. Just different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” She continued down the road, a small, thoughtful smile on her face. “Fair enough.” Eliza parked the car in the driveway and took a deep breath, studying the house. It was understandable that she was nervous. Their dad had referred to the Deetzes as Cal’s “second family” multiple times. If they didn’t approve of her, she didn’t know if she could handle it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just be friendly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she told herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Be friendly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled and nodded and got out of the car. “Spooky,” was all she said as she studied the Victorian architecture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal gave her a sideways glance. “You think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she nudged him playfully. “Looks like it was designed by you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled a little and knocked on the door. Eliza rocked on her heels next to him, yellow dress swaying. She tugged on her sleeves. She cleared her throat and swiped some hair behind her ear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just be friendly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened, and there stood Lydia. “Hey,” she said, flashing them the tiniest of smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Lydia!” Eliza said a little too loudly, her smile a little too big.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That was too friendly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl blinked once, then gestured to them to come in. She smirked at Cal, who cringed a little. “She’s trying her best,” he whispered as he peeled off his faded-to-grey hoodie and hung it up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span>, all right.” He gave her a warning look, then they both watched Eliza, who was thankfully out of earshot. She was studying the house, taking in the mismatched decor and odd artworks. Nothing seemed to fit. It was almost like the Deetzes wanted to undo the natural drabness of the house by forcing an ungodly amount of strange furniture into it. She could hear the faint sound of dishes clattering from the kitchen, but almost as soon as she noticed it, the noises stopped. Eliza glanced back at the teenagers and gave them a small, uncertain smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like it,” she said. “Not at all what I was expecting from you, but it’s still nice!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia snorted loudly. “Delia’s gonna </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>you.” She began to walk out of the entryway into a larger area. “Come on. My parents are in the living room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eliza dutifully followed, and Cal trailed behind her, studying the house for any sign of Beetlejuice. To his surprise, it seemed to be completely bereft of the demon. He craned his neck to look upstairs, just to make sure. He didn’t completely trust the idea that Beej would just </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Eliza cleared her throat, and Callum jumped. “You coming?” she smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed nervously and picked at his nails. “Yeah. Sorry. Just thought I saw something weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” his sister looked up the steps, squinting a little. “I don’t see anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal nodded and took her arm. “Yeah, my eyes were playing tricks on me. Come on.” He led her to the equally unusual living room where Lydia and her parents were sitting. Eliza glanced uncertainly at her brother, then took a step forward. The man was definitely Lydia’s father, with her brown eyes and serious demeanor. Even though he was in his own home, he wore a grey button down and dress pants, like he had just gotten off of work. Liza got the impression that his idea of a good time was reading a thick philosophical book and discussing it for a few hours. Next to him sat the kind of woman Eliza would be, if she had been raised by hippies and put through a technicolor filter. Lydia’s stepmother had a bright smile and equally bright red hair. Her loose kimono was a combination of hot pinks and bold magentas, and a few small crystals hung from a long chain around her neck to match her gemstone earrings. She was the complete foil to her husband, and Liza smiled a bit at how endearingly different they were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi!” she beamed, sticking out a hand to shake. “I’m Eliza. It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for letting me inside your lovely home! Where did you get all of your artworks? I really like them. And thank you for looking after Cal so much. He really likes it here, and it’s so nice to know that he has friends that—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles took her hand and gave her a small but genuine smile, politely but firmly stopping her nervous rambling. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Eliza.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took a deep breath and inwardly berated herself for talking on and on. She smiled awkwardly. “You, too, Mr. Deetz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m his wife, Delia,” the woman next to him chirruped. And Delia stuck out her hand with flourish, a bright smile on her face. The bangles on her wrist chimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eliza stifled a giggle and shook her hand with a broad grin. “Nice to meet you, Delia. I love your hair!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes glittered with warmth, and her smile grew. “Thank you! I was about to say the same thing to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liza lifted a hand to some of the strands that had escaped from her braided crown, absolutely beaming. “Where did you get your kimono?” she asked excitedly. “My grandmother gave me one forever ago when we visited her in Kyoto, but I’ve grown out of it and keep forgetting to get a new one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delia opened her mouth to reply, but Charles cleared his throat with a smile on his face. “The food’s all ready,” he said, “If we’d like to make our way to the dining room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right! Sorry.” Liza turned to walk to the kitchen, playfully continuing over her shoulder, “And when were you gonna tell me about the slaves, Lyds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal and Lydia exchanged a worried glance from behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” Charles asked, brow creased in concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liza turned back around, and her grin vanished. She had screwed this up. She had offended them, and now they all hated her and didn’t want to see her again. Cal was going to leave her and live with them because that’s just how much they despised her. She cleared her throat and flashed a smaller, faker grin. “I just... I heard dishes clattering when I walked in. It was probably nothing! Just my brain being weird. I didn’t mean to imply that you guys were slaveholders or... or bad people. Not that slaveholders are </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>people. That’d be ridiculous! Racists are... are bad, you know. Really bad.” A painful laugh escaped her lips, and it tapered off into an equally painful sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like all the air had been taken out of the room. Charles’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water for a moment. Delia blinked and took his hand and squeezed it gently. The teens looked at each other, and Cal made a </span>
  <em>
    <span>go ahead</span>
  </em>
  <span> gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia huffed and stepped forward. “We might as well tell her. That’s why she’s here, isn’t it? So she can meet </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eliza looked at her brother, brown eyes narrowed suspiciously, face still flushed from her awkward rambling. “What is she talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran a hand through his short hair and sighed quietly. “I’d sit down for this, Liza.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowned but obeyed, taking a seat on the couch opposite of Lydia’s parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lydia,” Charles said, “why don’t you go get the Maitlands?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded and headed upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal glanced at his sister, who was caught up in her own head, eyes flicking around the room. Why were they all acting like this was an intervention? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was </span>
  </em>
  <span>this an intervention? Oh, God. She had talked too much and now they thought she was crazy. They thought that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought that slaveholders were good people. That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously </span>
  </em>
  <span>the mark of an inadequate caregiver, and this was some elaborate way to tell her that Cal would be staying with these people called the Maitlands. She swallowed and clenched her fists into her dress. She didn’t know what she would do without Cal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia’s dad spoke up from across the room, trying to ease the sudden tension. “Don’t worry, Eliza. You’ll like the Maitlands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow at him. Her natural cheeriness had all but vanished; he had decidedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> eased the sudden tension. “Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Maitlands?” The question came out sharper than she had meant it to, but her overactive imagination and overwhelming fear of failure had convinced her that these people were all conspiring against her to take her brother and lock her up in an asylum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brother swallowed and sat down next to her. “You know my friends? The ones that are always hanging out with me and Lyds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal picked at his nails. “They’re the Maitlands. Adam and Barbara. They’re not, um. They’re not in high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eliza snapped her head up, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winced a little. “Yeah, they’re... adults.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like </span>
  <em>
    <span>adults</span>
  </em>
  <span> adults or eighteen-year-olds that call themselves adults because they legally can but actually have no real world skills and plan on living in their parents’ basement and smoking weed for the rest of their lives?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal blinked once, pausing for a moment to understand her rushed words, then just said, “Adults adults.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay...” Eliza studied him, waiting for him to continue. He wasn’t telling her everything, she was sure of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brother didn’t look at her, focusing instead on chipping his black nail polish away. “They’re adults,” he repeated, as if that one fact could save him, “but they’re... um...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Cal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice spoke up from the entryway to the living room. “They’re dead,” Lydia stated, her voice flat and words blunt. “They’re my ghost parents.” From behind her, a sheepish Adam waved, and Barbara gave a tiny “hello”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eliza stared at them, mouth hanging open, then turned to Mr. Deetz. “Explain, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he did. He told the story about how they had fallen through the floor of the house — </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> house — and died. A few years later, they had tried to unsuccessfully haunt the Deetzes out of their home. As he talked, Liza kept sneaking glances at the supposedly-dead couple. It wasn’t surprising that they weren’t great poltergeists. Barbara looked like a Disney princess, complete with a flowy green dress and perfect blonde curls braided away from her face. Adam looked like an awkward but well-meaning English teacher in his matching green button down and khakis. Eliza wasn’t sure if the color matching was on purpose, but it was absolutely adorable either way. While she was trying to decide if they were actually dead (they certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked</span>
  </em>
  <span> dead; they were a little translucent and she wasn’t sure how someone could fake that), Barbara caught her eye and smiled. Eliza flushed, embarrassed at having been caught staring, and looked back to Charles. He had finished his story and was looking at her expectantly. Everyone was, she realized. She looked around at the faces in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she burst out laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think we’re lying?” Lydia snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liza shook her head, unable to calm herself down. The Maitlands smiled awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay, honey?” Barbara asked, reaching out to touch the younger woman’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shock of cold hit where the ghost had touched her, and it snapped her out of her giggles. She shivered, and Barbara immediately apologized. Eliza waved her away with a smile on her face. “I’m alright. It’s fine.” She laughed again. “I just...” She looked to her brother. “Cal... ghosts?” She didn’t ask it in an unbelieving way. She was asking for clarification and assurance that this wasn’t a fever dream or proof that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to be locked up for her own good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged a little, giving her the smallest of smiles. “I mean. At least they aren’t drug dealers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or pedophiles,” Lydia added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liza nodded in agreement. “Fair enough.” She turned back to the Maitlands, still smiling at the pure ridiculousness of the situation she was in. “We should probably start this over.” She took a deep breath and willed herself not to ramble. “Hi,” she said as she stuck out a hand to shake, “I’m Eliza, Cal’s brother. He’s told me a lot about you. Although apparently not everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam gave her a small but genuine chuckle and shook her hand. “Hi, Eliza. I’m Adam, and this is my wife Barbara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re Cal’s friends,” Barbara added, shaking Eliza’s hand after her husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you,” Eliza said, absently, rubbing her hands together to warm them up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room fell silent, everyone just sort of smiling at each other. Lydia clapped her hands once and announced, “Well! That was awkward and I’m hungry,” before leaving the room; Cal followed. Eliza stood and gave the Maitlands a friendly grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at Adam, a hint of a smile on her face, as they walked towards the kitchen. “We talked on the phone, didn’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed and put an arm around Barbara’s waist. “Yep! That was me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia’s parents watched the interaction with relieved smiles. Still, Charles glanced surreptitiously around the room, still a little nervous that someone else might show up. Someone who was much less likable than the Maitlands. Delia looked at him. “Don’t worry,” she said, taking his hand. “Lydia talked with him. So did I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded a little and pecked her cheek. “Of course. I’m just... you can never be too careful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He means well,” was all his wife said before leading them out of the living room. The table was set (courtesy of the Maitlands), and everyone was seated around it, laughing and chatting as if two of their party weren’t deceased. Everyone began to dig in, and Charles got out a bottle of wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal and Lydia weren’t surprised that Eliza could see the ghosts, but they </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>surprised at how easily she seemed to mesh with them. She and Barbara spoke about everything from their gardens to their favorite dresses. Adam told her about his woodworking projects, and Eliza nodded with interest, a warm smile on her face. It was like they weren’t dead at all. Cal shrugged to himself and stabbed a piece of steak. Liza was a conversational chameleon; she always joked that her only redeeming quality was her ability to get along with everyone. Apparently that applied to ghosts as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The meal ended with a lot of conversation and laughter. More wine was poured, and they all continued to chat. “So,” Barbara said as the dishes were cleared away and she took in Liza’s purple hair, yellow dress, and black-and-white polka dotted Converse, “what do you do for a living, Eliza? Musical theatre? Costume design?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed awkwardly, taking a sip of wine and pushing down the unwarranted jolt of annoyance that always accompanied these kinds of questions. People tended to assume that her bright hair and affinity for bold patterns automatically meant that she had to have an artistic job. “No, actually,” she replied, “I’m a software engineer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other woman made a surprised noise into her own glass, and Eliza grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam covered for his wife. “That’s fascinating. What do you normally do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged a little bit. “I used to work for a bigger company in the city, developing their operating systems and such. But now I just do freelance work until Cal graduates.” She didn’t notice a quick look of guilt flash across Cal’s face. “It’s a lot of fun! A project can be all-consuming, but once you solve a problem, there’s always something else to move on to. And they vary a lot more than just debugging a program. Plus, the pay is pretty good,” she laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what about a partner?” Delia said, leaning forward a little. By the time she was on her third glass of wine, the question didn’t seem too invasive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eliza smirked a little. “What about a partner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have one?” The woman’s eyes sparkled with a girlish curiosity. Liza thought that if she said yes, Delia would actually giggle like a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That being said, Eliza was not in the mood to have a very long discussion about her distant, on-again-off-again relationship with her boyfriend. They’d been seeing each other relatively exclusively for years, punctuated by a few weeks-long breakups before getting back together (again and again and again). Dylan had helped Eliza move into Winter River, kissed her goodbye, then driven back to the city with promises to visit her “at some point”. She sighed quietly to herself, and Barbara gave her a concerned look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright if you don’t!” She reached across the table and patted Eliza’s hand. “It’s really okay. Not everyone finds their person early in life. Not everyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> a person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liza laughed a little. “Thanks, Barb. But I have a boyfriend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she brought her glass to her lips, an gravelly, audible “Shit!” echoed from the walls. She choked on her drink and looked at everyone seated at the table. “Excuse me?” she coughed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal grabbed Lydia’s hand and jumped to his feet, dragging her up with him. “Lydia,” he said, more loudly than he needed to, “where are your pads? It is my time of month.” And he laughed so painfully that his sister was sure he’d broken something. That, combined with the fact that he wasn’t using contractions, made her extremely suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry!” Lydia giggled as her voice went up an octave. Eliza’s eyes narrowed. Lydia had </span>
  <em>
    <span>giggled</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that was almost as common as a hurricane in Death Valley. “I’ll show you where we keep them.” And she pulled him out of the kitchen at almost a full sprint. They ran upstairs to the bathroom and slammed the door behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eliza raised an eyebrow at Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged a little as he took a sip of wine. “Old houses creak,” was all he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&lt;&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beetlejuice,” Cal growled, gripping the sink so tightly his knuckles turned white. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon appeared in the mirror in front of him, doing his best to look innocent. He batted his eyes, then worried that he’d oversold it. “Yes, sweet cheeks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beej swallowed. He’d definitely oversold it. But he couldn’t let it show. “What the fuck was what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia rolled her eyes from where she was seated on the toilet. He had her head in her lace-gloved hands. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what, BJ. Why did you have to talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon tapped his chin, pretending to consider his options, and a slow grin spread across his face. “How could I </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk,” Beetlejuice shot back, “when such a perfect breather entered my house? Shit, Cal, thanks for warning me that your sister was fucking half-Asian Aphrodite. A little awkward, yeah. A bit of a people pleaser, sure. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, mamacita! For once I’m glad I made myself invisible; I saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> many things that are gonna make me happy for a loooong while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal hissed and reached through the mirror and grabbed him by the dirty lapels. The boy looked absolutely furious , eyes blazing, teeth bared. “Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk about my sister like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yelped in surprise and decided to drop the act. “It was an accident!” he insisted, raising his hands placatingly, “I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be heard, it just happened. I was just watching and giving some Satan-tier commentary, and that slipped out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia scowled and walked over to them. Cal let go of the demon, but still looked completely livid. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>promised</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’d be quiet,” she said, her tone a mixture of hurt and anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few streaks of his hair turned a deep purple as he dusted himself off. “I know, Lyds. I was really trying.” He paused and looked at the both of them. “It was an accident,” he repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair, studying the bathroom tile as he tried to strategize their way out of this. He paced back and forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This caught both of the teens’ attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lydia smirked a little, studying him. “What was that, Beej?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He panicked. “I said, uh, Troy Bolton sucks dick, and Ryan Evans is a gay icon!” And he disappeared out of the mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cal raised his eyebrows at Lydia, who offered her arm. He looped his own arm through it. They each gave each other a wan smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might as well face the music,” she said as they left the bathroom and made their way downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chewing out Beetlejuice had only taken a few minutes, so Lydia and Cal were mildly surprised to find that the adults had all migrated back to the living room. Delia was gesturing so wildly with her glass that her drink threatened to spill, telling Eliza all about her job as a life coach and how positivity changed her for the better. Eliza gestured back, equally as animated but not nearly as drunk. She glanced up when she heard Cal enter the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flashed him her signature grin. “Hey, Cal! Feeling alright?” Apparently, she had forgotten about the otherworldly curses bouncing off the walls mere moments before. Or she was at least willing to dismiss them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, giving her a tiny smile. “Yeah. Much better.” He sat down next to Barbara, who gave him a concerned look. He smiled at her, too. “Really,” he insisted. The ghost smiled back and ran a hand through his hair soothingly, and the boy leaned against her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few more hours of talking, Beetlejuice’s antics were nearly forgotten, and the Marbels were ready to head home. Delia insisted that Eliza take a necklace with a small “love crystal” attached and that she stop in soon to begin her training as a life coach (“You’re the exact type we’re looking for!”), and the Maitlands each gave her a chilly hug, gushing about how wonderful it was to finally meet her (“Let me know how your succulents are doing!” Barb insisted). Charles had shaken her hand and reminded her that she was welcome over any time. Lydia had given her a small nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the siblings were on the road back home, Eliza spoke up with a fantastically bright grin on her face. She felt happier than she had in a very, very long time. She had forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by people who truly cared about her; the molten honey feeling that spread from the tips of her fingers to her toes. “They’re all wonderful people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brother smiled a bit. “Yeah. They are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing was said about the swearing walls.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading Chapter 3! It was pretty long, so if you stuck it out this far, bravo. We had our first sort-of interaction between Eliza and BJ, so that’s always a good time. I’m also v proud of my lil “Dead Mom” reference. </p><p>As always, feel free to leave comments and kudos and all that good stuff! Updates may be pretty slow for a while, as school’s started back up and that’s making me into a ball of stress.</p><p>Thanks for reading, and I’ll see you next chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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